


numb without your kisses (i'll be needing stitches)

by osnesqueen



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, I guess technically this would fit between Tactical Village and Charges and Specs, Literally just pain, Not Canon Compliant, Pain, Pre-Relationship, So much angst, Soulmate AU, but really it's a stand-alone in an alternate b99 universe, gun tw, one tumblr user described it as hell so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:01:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osnesqueen/pseuds/osnesqueen
Summary: In a world where your soulmate's last words are tattooed on your skin, Jake and Amy discover their truth in the worst possible way.Based off an anonymous ask sent to elsaclack.





	numb without your kisses (i'll be needing stitches)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elsaclack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsaclack/gifts).



> so basically elsaclack was sent the following ask:
> 
> a soulmate au in which you have your soulmate's last words on your forearm; jake only finds out it was amy when she dies in his embrace after a shootout
> 
> and it hurt my heart so much (guys the outline for this is literally titled "amy dies fic why would u do this to yourself") that I absolutely had to write it so here you go
> 
> I'm really sorry for the pain that's about to come
> 
> this is for Em, who let me write the entire outline in her ask box and then read over this fic for me, thank you so much for your support!!

At this moment in time, there are three things that Jake Peralta knows for sure:

The sky is thundering, coloured in a mix of greys and blues like his favourite NYPD sweater; a petty-thief-turned-assaulter is running a block away; and Amy Santiago is dying in his arms.

The first has no bearing on him, beyond the rain soaking his body. The second angers him to the point of violence, but all of that is lost to focus on the third, the only thing that really matters in this moment:

Amy Santiago is dying in his arms.

* * *

It had started out like any other case they worked.

There had been a string of burglaries at bodegas around Brooklyn. The perp had never robbed the store itself, but rather the customers as they left with their purchases, jumping out to scare them and then pickpocketing them as they gathered their belongings. It had been impossible to get a good ID on the guy, with all of the victims giving different accounts - tall, short, bald, bearded, any adjective at all could apparently be applied to the robber. Finally, after three months of dead ends and random attacks, they had managed to get three consecutive witnesses to give the same account: a tall, lanky man with a smattering of freckles and a ginger beard had been staking out the bodegas and pouncing on customers as they left. Once provided with a photo, one of the bodega owners had been able to provide a name: Tommy Callahan, a disruptive customer who had been thrown out of every bodega that had been targeted. From there, they’d been able to run his name in the system - turns out, the guy had priors for petty burglary, and the address that he’d provided in the previous arrests was the best lead they had.

That was how they had ended up here, at an ordinary brownstone in the heart of Brooklyn. Amy had knocked, Jake had cracked a joke, and with the flash of a badge Tommy was running, sprinting across the vacant lot behind the apartment complex. Jake remembers being reluctantly impressed at the perp’s ability to run across wet pavement so fast, and strangely proud of his partner’s ability to run just as fast in heels. He himself is tripping over his untied shoelace and is just barely able to keep himself upright when it all goes to hell.

There’s a flash of black, and before Jake can even yell “Gun”, let alone try to tackle the guy, a loud bang rings out.

It feels like it goes in slow motion from there: Santiago holding her stomach, a look of shock on her face as she slowly crumples; Jake firing three rounds off at the perp before running towards his partner, sliding the last few feet on his knees in an effort to reach her faster (it’s a move that would be cool if it wasn’t to reach his  _ partner who’s been shot _ ), ignoring all protocol in favour of cradling Amy away from the cold, wet pavement.

“Santiago, oh my god, Amy, okay, I got you, it’s okay, I got you,” Jake says, pulling her upper body into his lap. “Officer down, I repeat officer down, we need a medic,” he says into his walkie, quickly rattling off their information before turning back to his partner. “Okay, I just need to take a look, okay? Can you -  _ oh _ ,” he whistles through his teeth. “Okay, it’s going to be okay, a lot of blood doesn’t mean anything right? I’m just gonna apply pressure, it’s going to hurt and I’m so sorry -”

“ ‘t’s okay,” Amy mumbles. “It’s okay, Jake.”

“No, don’t try to speak, okay Ames? Dispatch is sending medics, you need to save your strength,” Jake says. He slides his left hand under Amy’s head, moving it to rest comfortably on his thigh, and puts the other on the rapidly bleeding wound on her stomach. Amy hisses in pain.

“God I’m so sorry, this is all going to be over soon okay?”

“ _ Five minutes out _ ” his walkie crackles.

“Did you hear that Ames? Five minutes. Just five more minutes okay?”

“Jake,” Amy says. She tries to lift her head, struggling to meet Jake’s panicked eyes. She’s no medical expert, but she knows enough to realize that she’s not making it out of this parking lot alive. She doesn’t want to go without telling him how she feels; she knows it’s shitty timing, she knows she might not be his soulmate, that his tattoo might not be of her words, but she can’t bring herself to care. No one ever really knew if they were soulmates until the end anyways,, and if her parents could live with that then so could she. Above all, he’s her best friend, her best friend that she thinks she could one day love, and he deserves to know that he is cared for and wanted, despite what he thinks. The most selfish part of her just doesn’t want to go without putting it out in the universe once; she doesn’t want to die with regrets.

“Jake -” 

“Ames, please don’t okay? Don’t waste your strength trying to talk to me, I need you to just lie still until the EMTs get here okay? You’re going to be fine but you need to lie still,” Jake pleads, and it’s the pure desperation in his eyes that stops her from arguing. Defeated, she lies back against his thigh, her hand landing on top of her stomach. 

“ ‘t hurts,” she whispers. 

“I know it does, I’m so sorry, you’re so close okay? You’ve done such a great job and the ambulance will be here any minute. Just try not to think about it, okay?” Jake says, his voice a low rumble. Clumsily, Amy’s hand tries to trace the vibration, ending up limp on his chest. Jake grabs it and squeezes. 

“I’m just gonna keep talking to you, okay? My sexy voice and charming stories should be more than enough to keep you distracted,” he jokes, or at least tries to; the shakiness of his voice betrays how utterly terrified he really is. Amy’s mouth pinches down as his voice cracks but she says nothing, merely nodding her head. 

“Okay, did I ever tell you about the time Charles tricked me into seeing  _ Les Miz  _ with him? He told me it was about some war and there was a lot of shooting and guns and stuff, but when we got there all anybody cared about was the love stories. I was so mad at Charles that I deliberately slept through the second half of the show. He refused to take me out anywhere for at least a year after that, and personally I think I dodged a bullet.” He chuckles to himself, then immediately winces. “God, bad choice of words, sorry.” 

Amy merely smiles. “Good story, Peralta.” Her eyelids flutter.

“No, Santiago, you gotta stay awake okay? I know my voice is incredibly soothing but I need you to keep your eyes open for me. Oh, I know what’ll make you angry enough to stare me down,” Jake says, anxiously watching Amy’s face. “I didn’t want to tell you this but I actually  _ hate _ your boyfriend.” 

Sure enough, Amy’s eyes open again, locking on his, but there’s no real anger in them.

“Yup, I think that Teddy is awful. He loves pilsners more than anything else, which I mean, that’s pretty weird, don’t you think? The dude doesn’t like your mom’s cooking, but loves pilsners, and to be honest I’m not entirely convinced he’s even  _ human _ at this point. And he always talks down to you, like you’re some damsel in distress who needs saving, but you’re not. You’re Amy freaking Santiago, knight in shining pantsuit who just happens to have super shiny hair and a pretty face. He has no idea how amazing you are, and you deserve someone who does. I could treat you so much better than that jerk ever could.”

The last sentence is out before Jake can stop himself, and surprise flashes across Amy’s eyes. He feels guilt wash over him; his partner is bleeding out, and he’s trash talking her boyfriend and confessing his feelings? But Amy’s eyes are still open and trained on him, and he can still feel her pulse, and he knows that the potential fall out is worth it if she can just hold on until the ambulance comes.

“I think you’re amazing, okay? I know I always make fun of you but you’re the best person I know, and you’re so kind and smart and funny and just being around you makes my day so much better, even if you are yelling at me about muffin crumbs. And you’re absolutely gorgeous, honestly, I might tease you about never having sex but any guy who turns you down is an idiot, and I just -” Jake blows out a frustrated breath. “You’re my best friend, you know? You can’t tell Charles, because he’ll probably adopt another humping dog out of depression, but there is literally no one else on the planet that I enjoy talking to as much as you, and I really wish we could explore our partnership romantic-stylez. And I know you’re with Teddy, and this is the worst time to say this, and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a coward about liking you for so long, and that it takes you getting shot to finally say it - ”

Amy’s hand moves up from his chest to gently frame his face, her rapidly cooling palm resting on his cheek. “It’s okay, Jake. I know. Me too,” she confesses, and Jake’s heart stops.

Not because his best friend and maybe-the-love-of-his-life just told him that she likes him, but because he knows those words, has had them memorized since they first appeared on his arm when he was twelve, and -

_ No. _ Nononononononono. This can’t be happening, it just can’t be, because Amy Santiago is not allowed to  _ die _ ,  _ damn it _ , not in this universe or any other, definitely not when she’s his soulmate and he’s only just discovering it. They have so much life to live together, so many cases to solve and jokes to make and time to spend, and after all of the shit the universe has put them through, this can’t be how it ends. Even the Old Testament God of his youth isn’t that cruel.

“Aw, you have a crush on me? That’s so cute,” Jake teases, desperately ignoring his thundering heart in favour of getting Amy to say something,  _ anything _ , because if she does, it means that the words tattooed on his arm aren’t her last, and he can live with the knowledge that Amy Santiago is not his soulmate so long as she gets to live, too.

Amy is silent, staring up at him with her big brown eyes.

“I mean, really, how long have you had this crush? I need to know for blackmail material,” he says, and Amy chuckles weakly. “You bet that everyone in the precinct is gonna know, and in the interest of being thorough I’m gonna need the exact date and time you realized you were in love with me.”

He only means it as a joke, a desperate attempt to hear her beautiful voice one more time, but Amy’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and that’s when Jake knows, without a doubt, three things:

The sky is still thundering away, rain pouring down as if Mother Nature is imagining a world without Amy Santiago in it; he is irrevocably in love with the woman in his arms, has been for a long time now; and said woman, his partner, will not be making it out of this parking lot alive.

“I love you,” he says, voice cracking. “I need you to know that, Ames. I wish more than anything that we were given the time for me to show you. I love you.”

Her smile grows ever so slightly at that. Jake grabs the hand on his cheek, placing a gentle kiss on it before cradling it to his chest, pouring all of his love and affection into his grip, knuckles turning white with the effort. 

Sirens wail in the distance - less than a minute away, by Jake’s estimation - as Amy’s eyes slip shut and her breathing slows down. Jake can do nothing except kiss her hand and run his now-bloody fingers through her hair, over and over again, until eventually, he feels her heartbeat stop against his thigh.

The last image Jake Peralta has of Amy Santiago is her cradled in his arms, smiling as his lips meet her skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I'M SORRY okay 
> 
> feel free to yell at me on tumblr at osnesqueen


End file.
